"If you should find this box,
my life's treasure you now hold.
I spent so much time searching,
my life is past..."
Soft sad word spoken
by someone long gone
telling you his story
and the story of this box.
You take hold of the pouch
and gently pry it open
dust floats out like memories
of a man long forgotten
Someone else's memories,
things you'll never know.
Hands gently find
the contents of the pouch,
with fingers like feathers
soft and delicate,
grasp the thing inside.
A shinny silver trinket
with vines and leaves of gold
a woman's name inscribed
a date from long ago
faded
I wonder how something so small
could mean so much.
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